Imagine walking outside on your back porch and seeing the woman who gave birth to you, the woman who you look up to above everyone, with tears running down her face. The look of defeat and pure and utter depression and exhaustion all in one look. Her eyes can tell it all. She's given her all for 21 years and she has no more fight in her. She's done, she's at an all-time low… Officially at rock bottom.
This, this was the sight I walked in on, seeing what my mother has gone through and watching it from a very young age has had the biggest impact on me; both emotionally and mentally. I've watched her fight for everything, fighting to keep us safe, fighting for love and most of all fighting to keep us shielded from all the hurt that has been caused to her…
She's your mother; she's seen you at your worst and has helped raise you up. She's seen you hurt and broken-hearted and that killed her to see her baby in so much pain. She always knows how to heal and mend your wounds, whether they be physical or emotional, but how can you do the same for her? How can you fix and mend years worth of hurt? How can you take that hurt and pain away?
The answer? You can't. You can't take years of hurt and pain away, the damage has already been done… It's in the past and you can't change the past. The best thing you can do to help mend and heal her broken heart and the scars that have been caused is to just tell her that you love her and that you will always be there for her… And that no matter what, you will never be able to repay her for the sacrifices she has made and for everything she has done for you, and hope that she hears you... That she knows you care.
You tell her that this pain is only temporary and that you are going to do everything and anything you can to help her escape this pain because that one look on her face breaks your heart; not only that, but it physically kills you inside to see her go through this… She is the one that would do anything to protect you, but who is going to do the same for her? The answer is me...
